Scathach the Shadow and Joan of Arc
by crazyconversations
Summary: Because some couples lay forgotten by time, and other loves just never die. Cheesy one-shot simply because I could not help myself. Rated M for safety.


**Scathach the Shadow and Joan of Arc**

**A/N: **Long story short, I thought it was absolutely preposterous that I couldn't find a story with this ship on this website (or anywhere else for that matter), so I took matters in my own hands and did this. I'm not too happy with myself but you know what f*ck it because this ship is canon and it deserved something. Set somewhere around The Warlock and the Enchantress, Scatty and Joan are stranded in what they believe is the Cretaceous period millions of years in the past. Spoiler Alert? Possibly?

**Disclaimer**: Nope.

* * *

The first time Scathach the Shadow met Joan of Arc, she was little more than a slightly lanky teenager whose opinions and ambitions got her in more trouble than most. Joan was gingerly swinging a sword too heavy for her thin frame, hidden behind some crumbling stables. Her handling was weak and she dropped her shoulders too easily; sometimes tiredness would even overtake her limbs and the sword would drop to the ground. The sight of that thin girl with red cheeks waving around some old piece of metal was laughable.

What caught the Shadow's eye that day was her determination, the sweat on her brow, her pursed lips - and her eyes.

* * *

"We should find a place to rest soon, you need to get some sleep."

Scathach paused to wait for her friend to catch up with her, noticing her hunched back and slight limp - they'd been walking for far too long for the immortal to handle and if she didn't find a safe place soon she was afraid for her friend's health.

Joan lifted her eyes to meet hers, her back suddenly straighter despite the heavy sweat dripping down her forehead and the way her knees buckled slightly at each step.

"I've lived for centuries, I think I can handle some light hiking, Scatty." she smirked at her and Scatty saw it again, what she saw the first time in that young woman centuries earlier (or was it tens of millions of years later now?) - it was all in her eyes.

* * *

The first time Joan of Arc really met the Shadow she took a step back, (she'd long learned to be cautious with strangers). And then she stared at the young woman with the flowing red hair and the knight's clothing and a shiny sword at her side like it was the most fascinating vision she'd ever seen.

As time went on, people would say that she spoke to God. Every time, she'd think back to those hot summer afternoons and bitter winter nights training with the Shadow - swords and shields clashing, wild red hair painting the air around them - and she would say that she talked to a Goddess.

* * *

"Well this is cozy enough." she cast an appraising eye around the small cave Scatty had secured for them. It was conveniently hidden behind some tall grass so that it'd be harder for predators to find them but easy enough for The Shadow to keep watch. The earth was soft beneath their feet, with the sleeping bags they had on their backs it wouldn't be too hard to catch a few hours of sleep. "I can see us settling down here just fine."

Somewhere in the wilderness a low bestial growl was heard from some prehistoric creature and when Joan caught her friends' eye, they dissolved into easy laughter.

"Sure, prime Cretaceous real estate right here", Scatty echoed when there was a pause in their snickering.

"Couldn't be better", she said but even through their mocking tone Joan felt a sense of calm wash over her as she watched Scathatch's now short red hair in the twilight. She felt the safest she could ever be.

* * *

When Scathach rode through the French countryside with a bleeding Joan in her arms, she felt nothing but desperation running through her veins. Her friends' blood was soaking her clothes, sticking them to her skin. She'd sworn that she wouldn't let anything happen to her, as stupid of a promise as that was during the Hundred Years War and even though she'd already broken it once before when Joan was imprisoned (and she'd never forgive herself for that), she couldn't bear it if her friend died in her arms.

When Nicholas Flamel told her that the only chance of saving Joan was to feed her her New Generation blood, all it took was a look at her weak bloodied body for her to stretch out her arm.

Later she'd think that she should have hesitated more before forcing the curse of immortality upon that young woman, but the mere thought of her lifeless body scared away all regrets.

* * *

"Everything all right in that head of yours?" Scatty felt a shiver run up her arm when Joan brushed against it as she sat at the entrance of the cave.

"Just wondering how we seem to always get ourselves into this kind of mess," she grinned and turned to admire the moonlight dancing softly on Joan's delicate features. "Not that it isn't fun, mind you."

"You'd think that," the French woman laughed softly at her side and Scatty let the sound wash over her, she couldn't believe how much she'd missed it.

"You should rest," she said, before Joan could catch her staring, but her friend ignored her and turned to look at the stars that were long gone in their world.

"Nan," she sighed, "tu m'as manquée aussi, Scatty."

* * *

The last time they had met (before all the mess with the twins of legend had brought them together again), was over a century earlier. Somewhere in the late 19th century, they had spent a sunny day together in the streets of Paris, revisiting old spots that they had known for centuries, walking by Flamel's old home, the newly built Haussmanian avenues, the old Tuileries garden and the beautiful Notre Dame.

Sometime during their stroll, the comfortable banter they usually shared turned into something different, Scatty couldn't really put her finger on it. By the time they sat down to watch the sun set on the Seine, their hands were brushing together a little too often and every time it sent a tingle down her spine. It wasn't a foreign feeling though, and maybe that's what was surprising about it. Because the feeling of the side of Joan's body resting against her on the bench felt just as wonderful as it always did, her voice and laughter just as enticing and her eyes... She couldn't tear her eyes away from them.

* * *

Ten million years in the past and Joan was again resting her head against her shoulder, her hair tickling her cheek and her lips almost too close to her naked shoulder for comfort.

The comfortable silence they had fallen into while stargazing had morphed into something else all of the sudden. Scatty could feel her heart beat a little bit faster every time Joan shifted in her position and she could feel her warm breath against her skin. This was not how a Vampire was supposed to feel, she reasoned, she wasn't supposed to feel at all. But then, when she felt Joan's lips brushing softly against her skin...

"You married him," she said before she could stop herself. Her voice came out hoarse and almost strained, an odd pitch to it betraying the emotions she was definitely not supposed to be able to feel.

"You went away," Joan sat up straight immediately, forcing Scathach to turn towards her. "You left, Scatty, you just left."

"I had to." her voice was more controlled now but nearly broke at the sight of Joan's eyes boring into her.

"Peut être," she saw a flash of hurt in her friend's eyes but it was quickly followed by one of anger, "but what was I supposed to do? Wait for you?"

"I just wanted you to be happy." she barely found her voice and this time it did break. Joan's eyes softened.

"I love him." she said and it was almost apologetic. "You left."

"I had to."

* * *

When Joan's lips brushed against Scatty's that night, she pulled away in surprise at her own actions. But when she looked up she was startled by the swirl of emotions she saw, the kind she had never seen in those green eyes before.

So she kissed her more fiercely and - before she could realise what was happening - they found each other back at her apartment away from the indiscreet stares of 19th century Parisians.

* * *

So many years later and she could still remember with vivid detail what it felt like to taste Scathach's soft lips.

With Scatty looking at her like that, under the prehistoric stars, she thought that she had no other choice.

So she kissed her.

"You can't leave me again," she whispered against her lips, before Scatty attacked them even more forcefully.

"Jeanne," her hands grabbed at her hair and their lips redoubled their effort, "Je peux pas... I can't stand it"

"I know"

* * *

She couldn't be feeling those things. She was Scathach the Shadow, the Vampire, the Next Generation warrior, Aiofe's twin, Prometheus' niece, an immortal, a creature. There was no possible way she could have those feelings.

The last time she'd fallen in love..

* * *

"I can't"

She pulled away almost as fiercely as she had been kissing the immortal, moving a few inches away for good measure and desperately trying to ignore the way Joan nipped at her bottom lip as she did.

"Scatty..." Joan's eyes were almost pleading as she searched the redhead's face for any sign of what was going through her head at that moment, her hands still wrapped around her face.

"No, Joan, you don't understand I can't be...I can't be feeling those things!" Joan's hands fell to her knees at her sudden movement, "I can't... I'm not human! ...besides, the last time I let myself lose control like that..."

"Cú Chulainn." Scatty softened at the look of understanding on her friend's face.

"I found him, you know. Last year, I... He was in Vegas, of all places. It... We fought. He wanted... Revenge, I think he wanted revenge. He was just so..."

Joan nodded. She turned away from her and settled back down to admire the stars above them. "It's not the same, Scatty." she sighed "it's just not... We're not the same."

* * *

When Joan woke up the next morning it was with a start.

She'd heard a noise in the apartment and caught a sudden movement in her bedroom from the corner of her eye.

She immediately reached out for Scatty, but her hand met a cool pillow instead of the soft freckled body she was looking for.

"Scatty?" she said. She heard a pause in the movement around her and then a slightly more hurried shuffling of clothes followed. Joan rolled to her side and as she sat up in bed, she came face to face with a panicked half-dressed Scathach staring at her.

"Scatty?"

"Oh, uhm," it took a moment for Scatty to respond, her eyes trailed up Joan's naked chest before she could gather her thoughts with a slight shake of her head. It occurred to her that she'd never seen the Warrior be distracted that easily.

It'd have made Joan laugh if it weren't for her confusion at Scatty's state of, well, non-undress. And then she fully took in the look of sheer panic on Scathach's face - a face upon which she'd never seen real fear before - the way her body was posed in such a way that she could pounce away at any moment, her hand running through her hair in that rare nervous tick of hers.

"Joan, I..."

"You're leaving, aren't you?"

"I can't." and with that, she was gone.

* * *

"Have you ever tried just running your hands against the stones of Paris? Have you ever noticed what it feels like, the way you can just feel all those centuries of history in them? How you can just sense every scar and every dent and every smooth surface shaped by nature, and then man, and then time... It's what I love the most about cities like Paris, the way it makes me feel." Joan tore her gaze away from a particularly dense cluster of stars to look straight into Scatty's green eyes instead. "That's how you make me feel, Scatty."

"You mean that I feel old?" Scathach said and the confused look she had made Joan break into giggles for a moment.

"No!" she said when she caught her breath again "Well, in a way. But what I mean is that all that history, all you've done, Scatty, things that you are not proud of or are, all that's happened to you or hasn't, I can feel all that. And it makes me feel...at peace. It's fascinating and beautiful and... It makes me want to embrace every dent and every scar of you, not hide away from it."

In that moment when their eyes met, Joan could see it again, all those things swirling in the green of the redhead's eye - the fear still lingering at the surface.

"All those things you feel, Scatty... They've always been there. And maybe you just need to-"

But in that instant it was as if a strong electrical current ran between them - sending shivers through their fingertips and down their spines, making their auras flare silver and grey. And then Scatty was on her in a flash, kissing and nipping at her lips, her strong arms pushing her to the ground until she had no other choice but to respond.

* * *

"You're beautiful," she'd said as Joan's corset fell to the ground and the moonlight shining through the window danced around her body.

* * *

"I'm scared," she whispered between kisses and Joan immediately pulled her body closer.

* * *

"I love you." Joan had gasped that night.

* * *

"Je t'aime aussi" she felt more than heard Scatty whispering against her ear.


End file.
